


In Other Words, Run!

by Nothing_but_the_Rain



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: A very confused crew of the Sleipnir, Garibaldi Biscuits, Gen, I hope it is a wonderful mess, Timey Wimey Stuff, bobble hats, gender swop, i don't fucking know, send help I've gone mad, silliness, space animals, the doctor being the doctor, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_but_the_Rain/pseuds/Nothing_but_the_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11th Doctor & Clara, set series 7, between episode 9 (Hide) and episode 10 (Journey to the Center of the TARDIS).<br/>Starfighter (webcomic) - set chapter 3, page 72.</p><p>The Doctor takes Clara for some Christmas sight seeing, however they end up on a Federated Alliance ship, deep in Colteron space, during the Earth - Colteron War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Other Words, Run!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartsung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsung/gifts).



> I was Heartsung's (Tumblr/A03) secret Santa - A Happy Yule to you my dear.  
> I hope this isn't too weird.
> 
> I'm sorry Doctor Who fans for all the errors I've probably made - esp regarding the console in the TARDIS.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful wifeu - NoiraKai - for Beta-ing and fixing all my spelling/grammar errors and typos - also catching me when I let the characters become ooc. *smooch*
> 
> Thank you very much to the wonderful A2MOM - I've borrowed her wonderful OC's Puck and Oberon - in my mind the OC's A2 has populated the Sleipnir with have become cannon so it's only natural that they pop up. Although I couldn't remember what you called their ship so I had to make a name up.

“Sooooo,” said the Doctor, walking around the controls of the TARDIS, rubbing his hands together. Clara watched him with one brow raised and a coy smile. “What do you feel like today?” he glanced at Clara when she didn’t reply immediately. “Come on; come on, all of time and space! Where do you want to go?”

However, as she opened her mouth to respond, he started talking again. Clara just rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently.

“I’ve got it! It’s Christmas time. You need fun, fun, fun and a giant helping of fairy lights!”

“Ooo, I love fairy lights!” Clara said, then jumped quickly one step to the side. She sighed with relief before tutting with annoyance and scowling upwards.

The Doctor did a double take, “What was that?”

“What?”

“That weird little hoppy thingy you just did?” he gestured at her with one hand, flapping it from side to side.

Clara folded her arms over her chest and huffed, “She doesn’t like me, Doctor! I keep telling you and you don’t believe me and you make excuses. But look...” she stuck one goose bump covered arm out from her side and sighed in relief as warm air hit her skin. “The whole room is lovely and warm, except _exactly_ where I’m standing!” She all but stamped her foot, glaring at the Doctor and pouting. “She hates me Doctor, TARDIS is jealous and she is being mean to me!”

A confused frown flitted across the Doctor’s face and he flicked a little worried glance at the TARDIS’ time rotator. Then his features settled into his best placating and sympathetic look. Stepping toward Clara, he dipped his head slightly so his face was closer to her height. Putting his hands on her arms, he rubbed to warm them a little. “She’s the TARDIS Clara, a spaceship, she can’t be jealous,” he said, lying through his teeth, “she’s probably just reminding me that to see the lights made by the Fairies of Luna Minora at this time of year, you’ll need warmer clothes,” he squeezed her shoulders, smile soft. “Go get changed,” he spun her around and gave her a gentle push. “I’m thinking jeans, boots and a woolly jumper. Maybe a bobble hat?”

“Fine,” Clara sighed. “Time Lords and their obsession with bloody hats,” she muttered as she walked off to get changed.

                        *********************************************************

Clara returned ten minutes later wearing a pair of ‘boyfriend fit’ slouchy jeans that she’d found in one of the wardrobe rooms, a Fair Isle jumper (it was Christmas after all!), a pair of black Doc Martin boots, and a red, white and blue, reindeer motif bobble hat. Her dark hair hung loose, and it escaped the hat around her face and down her back.

She pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves as she walked up to where the Doctor was fiddling with the controls of the TARDIS; she was happy to feel no sudden blasts of icy air.

He looked around at her, “Wonderful!” he beamed. “You look positively snugly! Ooo!” he flicked the bobble on her bobble hat, “you’re wearing a bobble hat. Maybe I should wear a fez!” he said nodding his head encouraging her to agree, grinning with excitement. There was that raised eyebrow from Clara again, and the Doctor sagged. “At least a bobble hat?” he pleaded.

“Bobble hats are exceptable,” she grinned, then laughed as he whipped a bobble hat out of his back pocket and pulled it over his quiff of hair with a pleased grin worthy of a boy of five, not a Time Lord of nine hundred and something. “So then, what are these Fairy lights of Luna Minora then?”

“Trust me, Clara,” the Doctor replied over his shoulder, as he flipped switches and twiddled knobs on the console of the TARDIS. “It’s better if I show you. Words, even mine, wouldn’t do them justice,” he flicked the final lever and the TARDIS lurched as the time rotator started its tumultuous movement. Aqua blue lights surrounding the pulsing device glaringly bright, the spinning hexagonal panels above covered with blue Gallifreyan markings, capturing Clara’s attention. White neon light flashed in a sequential pattern around the walls, accompanied by the whooshing, thumping, humming song of the TARDIS. The Doctor grinned, in his element, as he danced around the control console, flipping and turning and sliding what needed flipping, turning and sliding in order to get them where they were going.

The noise of flight, turned to the humming whirr of rematerialisation as the TARDIS screeched her arrival.

The Doctor grabbed Clara by her gloved hand and towed her excitedly towards the doors. Pausing before them he turned to a smiling, flushed Clara. “Close your eyes,” he said.

The doors to the TARDIS sprung open, swinging inwards of their own accord and the Doctor leapt out, Clara’s hand still clasped in his own, so she was towed along in his wake. He raised his other arm in a grand sweeping gesture made to encompass all of the wonder before them saying, “I give you the Fairy Lights of Luna Minora!”

Clara opened her eyes.

The Doctor heard a multitude of small clicks and humming sounds. He frowned; Clara’s previously flushed cheeks had suddenly paled, and something else, something else had happened to her features that he could quite put his finger on.

“Ummm, Doctor...” said Clara, voice rough, “I don’t think these are fairy lights.”

                   *************************************************************

The Reliant touched down gently in the hangar bay of the Sleipnir. Abel, sweating and dizzy, yet elated, pressed the hatch release on the Reliant’s cockpit. He stepped out onto the body of the Reliant, steadying himself against the hatch as sudden vertigo swooped through him. The pounding in his ears receded in time to hear the whoosh of the fighter’s hatch opening and Cain calling his name. Abel looked up. Cain, flushed and just as sweaty as Abel, stared at him wide eyed and smiling. His smile captured Abel’s attention, causing him to give a little ‘oh’ of surprise. Cain’s face looked young, full of wonder, like a child on Christmas morning who had got the puppy he requested. “Cain?” Abel queried, barely audible. Then Cain’s arms were around him and squeezing. This public display of affection took Abel by surprise, so much so that he didn’t move for a moment. By the time he realised he hadn’t returned the hug, Cain had gently pushed him away.

Abel gasped in surprise for a second time; this time at the sound of cheering from the crowd of fighters, navigators, engineers and maintenance workers in the hangar bay, which rose up and washed over them. He felt his heart leap, and any fatigue he felt melted away replaced by the elation of their approval. He waved back as they cheered and whooped.

Looking around he saw the other ships in their team had also landed safely and the crew members were disembarking. Above them, on the gantry overlooking the bay, Commanders Bering and Cook look down on the scene, seemingly impassive.

As he and Cain stepped toward the ladder to climb down the side of the Reliant a strange whooshing, screeching, whoomping noise filled the space of the hangar bay, becoming louder and more substantial, more localised, until Abel could see something becoming visible in the centre of the bay, fading in and out of sight. It looked like a, well Abel didn’t know what it looked like. He could see flashes of dark blue and a strobe of white light. All around the bay people were stood stock still, silent and staring.

Before either Bering’s or Encke’s barked commands to arm and surround the target reached their ears Cain stepped quickly back to his cockpit, moving to grab the side arm they all carried in their ships. Abel swallowed and stumbled back to liberate his side arm, hands shaking only slightly. All around the hangar bay, fighters and navigators were unlocking small arms lockers and arming themselves. Maintenance workers and engineers were proving that any tool in the right hands could be a weapon, as they hefted wrenches, hammers, ratchets and other implements.

The flickering insubstantial thing had stopped its noise and become solid and whole on the hangar deck floor, just the last few bars of its song playing out and the light flashing on top of its roof. Boots rang on metal as they all took up positions surrounding it.

Abel found himself with Cain and Deimos on either side and slightly in front of him, he glanced between them and caught the look they shared, both steady and calm, breathing even. As Abel readied his weapon he read the words on the top of the strange blue box – Police Box Public Call. He frowned, _what on Earth?_

“Steady men!” this was from Bering, still stood on the gantry above them, “Hold fire, until I give the word!”

The doors of the blue box opened sharply inward, and two strangely dressed people were disgorged, one towing the other by the hand and both wearing bobble hats.

“I give you the Fairy Lights of Luna Minora!” the taller one said, still looking at the other as he gestured behind him.

Around the room every crew member pressed the safety release on their weapon, causing a multitude of clicks and hums, as the pulse weapons sprung to menacing life.

                                    *************************************************

“Oh Clara, Clara, Clara!” exclaimed the Doctor, completely ignoring the room around them, he whipped out his sonic screwdriver from his inside coat pocket, causing the crew in the room to redouble their grip on their weapons. He quickly scanned Clara, the TARDIS, the room, then flicked his wrist, held the device up at his eye level and stared at the sonic as if it held the answers to all the questions in the known universe.

“What Doctor!” Clara queried, and then frowned. “Why do I sound so strange? And I feel odd. Like roomy in places where I should be full and full in places where I should be roomy. Also, room full of men with guns,” she swallowed. “And seriously Doctor, what is going on with my voice?” she pressed her hand to her throat and her eyes opened wide at the lump she felt there. She looked down, eyes going impossibly wider as she frantically patted down her now flat chest.

The Doctor was talking, “I don’t know how she’s doing it. She’s never done this before,” he wiped back round to Clara, scanning her again with the sonic. “It’s not even a holographic projection; the TARDIS has actually changed you, Clara. Or should I say, Carl,” he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “ _Heeeello_ , Carl.”

Clara was dumbfounded, as by this point she had patted down as far as her groin, and found she had a bit more there than she was used to. “See she hates me Doctor!” she wailed, then anger flashed through her and she straightened up and advanced upon the Doctor, one finger raised. “This had better not be irreversible,” she cautioned.

“Ah. Well. Now. I am sure she did it purely for your benefit and like I said she hasn’t done this before to my knowledge, but I am sixty-seven percent sure it will reverse when we re-enter the TARDIS,” he said, hands up in a gesture of surrender and supplication. “If it’s any comfort you make a very handsome man. I like the Pixie cut she’s given you.”

“Thanks,” Clara said, glancing down at herself, “glad I found these baggy jeans, I’d hate to think how it’d would have gone if I’d been wearing the women’s super skinny I was going to put on...” she trailed off. “Pixie cut!” she grabbed the bobble hat off her head, revealing the rest of her hair, what little there was compared to the flowing mane she had hand only moments before. She ran her hand through it. “She messed with my hair! Oh, I swear Doctor, this had better be reversible, or I don’t know what I’ll do to that TARDIS!” these last words she shouted at the TARDIS which responded by slamming her doors and making an indignant noise – if spaceships can make indignant noises.

The rest of the men in the room looked on with confused faces at the pantomime being performed before them, some exchanged incredulous looks.

“Now, now, dear,” the Doctor said, talking to both the TARDIS and the Clara, well mostly to the TARDIS. But it was too late; she started her whirring, whooshing discordant song of dematerialisation and was gone.

The Doctor ran his hand over his face and sighed, wishing that for once they could end up where he wanted to go rather than where one of the women in his life dictated. He had a fair idea of why they had ended up here, on a Federated Alliance ship in deep space, but really he had just wanted to watch Clara’s face light up seeing the emanations of the fairies.

He was about to voice his deductions on the situation to Clara, when a booming voice from above shouted. “State your intentions and designation,” and there came from all around them the sounds of weaponry being shifted and repositioned in strong grips.

Frowning and beginning to feel a little cross, the Doctor said, “Why is it always guns!” a little louder than he’d intended, and shook his head.

Stepping closer to Clara he whispered rapidly, “We are on a Federated Alliance battle ship in deep space, during the war between Earth and her colonies and the Colteron Hegemony. It’s both an interesting and standard period in Human history and one that proves quite nicely that although you repeatedly learn your lessons you forget them all too quickly,” he made a sharp, angry gesture with his hands. “I suspect you are a male because all the crew here are male as is standard practice at this time and it should prove to give you both more standing in their eyes and a measure of protection. Like I said humans quickly forget lessons and one they love to forget is equality between genders, races and species,” at that he clapped his hands, stood up straight, and began addressing Bering and Cook. “Commanders, I am unimpressed with both the security measures aboard this vessel and the welcome myself and my assistant have received,” he ignored Clara’s tut at being called his assistant, reached into his pocket once more, retrieved his psychic paper and flourished it towards the commanding officers as he continued. “My report shall be thorough and, if this past few minutes is anything to go by, damning!”

Both Bering and Cook visibly flinched and then recovering themselves, sprang to attention and saluted.

“Men, stand down!” Bering ordered, his words having immediate effect on the fighters and navigators surrounding the Doctor and Clara. 

“General Neysmith, welcome aboard. You have my sincerest apologies for how you have been treated thus far,” Cook said, smoothly. “If we had been informed of Section’s intention to inspect our vessel our welcome for you would have been more salubrious.”

“General! I’m a General!” the Doctor whispered gleefully to Clara, rubbing his hands together and chuckling. Raising his voice to address Cook, he replied, “No one is ever informed when they are to be inspected by Section, that is rather the point. However, I am willing to overlook this fiasco, as it seems your men sprang quickly to action not moments after completing a successful flight, for which you have my congratulations,” he raised one finger to forestall whatever Cook was about to say in response. “Also, I would prefer it if you referred to me as Doctor.”

“Very well, Doctor Neysmith, if you...”

The Doctor cut him off again, “Just Doctor if you please, Commander Cook.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Cook said, and only those who knew him intimately noticed the tightness in his jaw. “Lieutenants Keeler and Encke, if you and the members of red team could proceed to the debriefing room as planned, escorting the Doctor and his assistant with you, we will meet you there momentarily.” Cook inclined his head fractionally toward the Doctor and Clara, “If that is acceptable to you, Doctor?”

The Doctor had been watching the crowd surrounding them while Cook spoke; noting who responded to the mention of Red Team, who looked volatile, who useful. “That will be perfectly acceptable,” he replied in clipped tones, clearly getting into his new role as General of the Federated Alliance secret services. Clara elbowed him surreptitiously, a reprimand for being over dramatic.

Encke and Keeler strode over to the new arrivals, all business and professionalism, despite the sweat drying inside their flight suits and the change to their post mission routine. It was clear to both of them that the Commanders were not entirely sure of the new arrivals despite their apparently gleaming credentials.

Keeler took care of the meet and greet as Encke marshalled the other members of their team into order. 

“I am Lieutenant Keeler, the lead navigator on the Sleipnir,” he said smiling tightly and offering his hand to them. “And this,” he gestured toward where Encke stood speaking with the men, “is Lieutenant Encke, the lead fighter. The others are the fighter and navigator pairs of the red team. As I’m sure you are aware they are designated by their ships,” Keeler noted that the aforementioned pairs looked distinctly unhappy about the unscheduled change to their standard procedure and also considerably weary of the newly arrived men. He could see Cain grinding his jaw as he stood protectively by Abel’s side; he noted that Phobos’ quite little fighter, Deimos, was flanking Abel on his other side. He glanced over at Phobos, whose looksaid that if he wasn’t in the military he would be having the hissy fit to end all hissy fits right now, probably because he was being kept from the showers. Keeler shifted uncomfortably as he was reminded of his own sweaty skin inside his flight suit.

“Keeler and Encke! Yes, yes,” the Doctor beamed at him. “Wonderful. I have heard quite splendid things about you both. Quite the accomplished pair.”

Keeler smiled faintly, raising one eyebrow at the praise, not sure whether it was a good thing for Section to be aware of them.

“This is Clara... I mean Carl,” the Doctor continued, gesturing at Clara to step forward, “my assistant. Very good at err... assisting.”

“ _Carl_ ,” Clara glared at the Doctor, stepped forward and shook hands with the fine boned blond man, getting distracted while she did so by the size of her new hands, and therefore she held on to Keeler’s hand a little longer than was comfortable.

Keeler visibly sagged with relief when the Doctor detached Clara from him and Encke arrived at his side with the reorganised red team.

“Come on, _Carl_ ,” the Doctor whispered in her ear, “we have to keep focused.”

“Right. Focused. Battle ship. War. Male. Got it. What’s the plan now then?” she replied.

“I’m not sure yet. It more or less depends at what stage we have arrived at in the Sleipnir’s journey into Colteron space and well a whole jumble of other timey wimey stuff. For now we make friends and find out... stuff,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh well, at least you didn’t say you had a plan. I hate it when you lie.”

Encke cleared his throat, drawing them out of their whispered huddle. “Doctor. I am Lieutenant Encke,” he proffered his hand, and then gestured to the members of the team, “this is Puck and Oberon, navigator and fighter of the Athens; Phobos and Deimos, of the Equinox, and Cain and Abel, of the Reliant.”

“Cain and Abel...?” Clara whispered to the Doctor. “That won’t end well.”

“Shush, Carl,” he whispered back, then raising his voice said, “A fine mission you flew today, you have my congratulations.” He stepped closer to Abel, looking him over critically, causing Cain to tense. Abel’s eyes darted side to side, and he lent backward, away from the Doctor who was invading his personal space as he stared intently into Abel’s eyes. The Doctor flicked out his sonic again to scan Abel, and found Cain in front of him instead.

“What the fuck is that fucking thing, _Doctor_?” Cain growled through clenched teeth.

“It’s okay, Cain, this won’t harm him,” the Doctor replied calmly, eyes locked on Cain’s.

Cain didn’t move; jaw tight he continued to glare at the Doctor.

Abel put his hand on Cain’s shoulder saying, “It’s fine, Cain,” as he went to step around him.

Encke growled, “Reliant...” warning clear in his voice. Cain stepped aside.

Clara moved closer to the Doctor’s side, saying jovially, “So this is all fun and games but, I don’t know about you lot, I could really do with a cup of tea.”

The Doctor blinked but didn’t look away from Cain as he slipped the sonic away. Then suddenly he was grinning and clapping his hands, “I do hope they have Garibaldi’s. I love a Garibaldi biscuit,” and the moment was over.

Keeler licked his dry lips and motioned for them to follow himself and Encke. “Doctor, Carl, if you would follow us please.”

“Red team, move out,” Encke ordered them to proceed from the hangar bay. They arranged themselves in formation as he had instructed them; Puck and Oberon at the rear, then Deimos and Phobos, with Cain and Abel behind the Doctor and Carl who were following himself and Keeler. He had also ordered them all to keep their side arms on them, as something felt decidedly off about this whole situation. First the Reliant disappearing during the mission, then these two appearing in the weird blue box that was not there, then there, then gone again. He could see Keeler felt it too. Encke needed them all armed and ready. He needed them all to stay sharp and be on the ball.

 

*********************************************************

Clara looked around as they walked down the utilitarian corridor of the ship the Sleipnir. Just once couldn’t that grumpy old box send them somewhere fun and warm where they weren’t in mortal danger? She sighed. This being a boy thing was odd. She could see now why they swaggered around so much. She felt like she emanated from her groin, when she normally felt that she emanated from her head. It was a most bizarre feeling, but she was quite enjoying it now she was over the shock. Not that she wanted to be stuck this way, but how many people could say they had this experience? And that was the numb and crux of travelling with the Doctor, this mad, wonderful man; the experience, the never really knowing what would happen next, but knowing that he would do whatever it took to set things right, to make things safe for all concerned. She trusted him with her life, and wanted to keep him safe from his self sacrificing instincts, as much as he wanted to protect everyone he came across. So she was a boy. _Man_ , she corrected herself. She might as well throw herself into it and enjoy the experience. Peeing would be interesting. She’d always wanted to pee standing up.

Looking behind her at Cain and Abel, she smiled. Cain glared, but Abel returned her smile. The small dark haired fighter, Deimos, she remembered, had moved forward slightly so he was closer to Cain and Abel, leaving his navigator glowering and pouting a few paces behind.

“So Doctor, fill me in a bit. Earth is at war with some aliens called...” Clara asked, quietly.

“Colterons. An insectoid race from sector twenty one, originally. They are a hegemonizing race. Once they became capable of long distance space travel they decided that everyone should come under their rule.”

“Oh. Another one of those types. Why do they always have to be greedy? Daleks, Cybermen, Colterons,” she put on a Cyberman voice, “Our way is the best way and you will all be like us whether you like it or not.”

The Doctor chuckled.

“So what about these fighter and navigator pairs?” she continued. “The fighters suits remind me of Strax,” she smiled fondly and giggled.

“Pfff! Yes, but thankfully not the faces,” the Doctor laughed, then continued. “The navigators fly the ships. They have advanced skills in mathematics, computing and flight tactics and are superb pilots. They are also very skilled at research and development. The fighters are skilled, well, fighters, honed physical abilities and reflexes and also wonderful at direct combat tactics. However, it is another example of the divide between the classes and races of Earth yet again. Not exclusively but for the most part, navigators are almost entirely from Earth and therefore more privileged, and held in higher regard. The fighters are less privileged Colonial humans, almost second class citizens in the eyes of many Earth humans at the time. I keep hoping that at some point you lot will realise that you are all human, and then that we are all living beings, but alas...” he sighed theatrically. “Also they tend to be sexually and often romantically involved with each other. The fighters and navigators that is, not the humans and Colterons; although that will happen eventually.” They had come to a door which whooshed open to reveal yet another corridor identical to the first one. The Doctor lowered his voice, “The team we are with now is one of the best in the fleet, however there is an experiment in progress that has far reaching implications and let’s says it was _not_ put before an ethics committee. Add to that, that I think we may have arrived at the most dangerous point in the history of the Sleipnir and we could be in for some fun.”

“By fun you mean we could be in mortal danger; more so than army guys with guns and a sulking, absentee TARDIS,” Clara clarified.

“Yes. Exactly,” the Doctor said brightly, then seeing her face said sheepishly, “sorry.”

She threw up her hands and slowed her pace until she was walking next to Abel instead, “Men!” she said. He looked at her quizzically, but just smiled rather than commenting. Behind them Puck and Oberon were talking in hushed tones, Phobos continued to pout and Deimos’ eyes bored into the Doctor’s back.

She tried again, “Hi, I’m Cl... Carl,” she bent at the waist slightly so that she could see Cain around Abel and include him in the conversation. “Hello!” she said giving him a little wave.

“I’m Abel, Sir, ” Abel replied, utterly bemused by the assistant of a General being so informal. He glanced at Cain, who just scowled.

“So,” Clara continued, “You’re a navigator and you’re his fighter,” she pointed at them each in turn. “What’s it like, flying in space with people shooting at you?”

“They’re not people, they’re fucking bugs,” Cain snapped.

“Cain!” Abel reprimanded.

The Doctor turned and continued to walk, backwards, so he could face them, “They are evolved from bugs, yes, but they are a highly intelligent race of creatures. Sadly, they have a desire to control the known universe and make everyone in it their slaves,” he nodded to Cain, who unwound a little bit. Looking at Abel closely he said, “I would like to scan you when we get where we are going, if you are amenable to that?”

Abel nodded, saying, “Yes, Doctor.”

The Doctor continued, “So, tell me about today’s flight.”

“Well, Doctor,” Abel started.

Cain went to interrupt but noticed Keeler’s look. Encke gave a sharp shake of his head.

Keeler said brightly, “These gentlemen are from Section. That is, as you are aware, the Alliance’s secret services, the upper echelons of the intelligence division. You may answer any questions they have.”

“Well, Doctor,” Abel continued, “we flew in to intercept enemy ships that had targeted our scout ships. They had destroyed one ship, the Essex, and were closing on the other, the Taurus. Our ships com disruptors had been effective, and the ‘Terons’ had been unable to report the situation or to call for reinforcements, as far as we are aware. We destroyed the enemy ships, however one remained, it, he, it... communicated with us, called us, ‘human cowards’. Then it turned and commenced a collision course with us, the Reliant. I flew her toward the target so Cain could get the shot and then, then... I don’t know there seemed to be some kind of malfunction.” Behind them Phobos snorted, and Abel frowned and glared at him over his shoulder. “There was a blinding light from my navi orb and then Cain took the shot. The ‘Teron ship was destroyed and we came home.”

The Doctor stared at Abel for a few moments in silence then he pulled a brightly coloured foil wrapped sweet from his pocket saying, “Here have a boiled sweet, it will make you feel better,” and held it out towards Abel.

As Abel lifted his hand to take it, a resonate boom echoed through the ship, more felt than heard, reverberating through the metal floor and up their legs. Causing them all to stagger and come to a halt. The lights flickered, dimmed, and then came back at full power. They looked around at one another. The Doctor pulled out his sonic and quickly scanned around them.

“What the fuck was that?” Cain said, just as another resounding thud shook through them. This time the lights went out, the emergency lights coming on a few seconds later. Cain had stepped closer to Abel and drawn his side arm, the other fighters doing the same.

“Emergency power,” Encke stated, looking around the corridor, then toward Keeler.

“There’s a coms panel just up the corridor on the left,” Puck said, addressing Keeler.

“We head there,” Keeler responded, “contact control, see what’s happened,” he waved them forward.

“Keep a tight formation,” Encke said, “stay together.”

The Doctor was still fiddling with the sonic, “Doctor?” Clara said as they started forward.

“Lieutenants, your ship is under attack, I believe you may have been boarded,” the Doctor said stridently. “The main power supply has been compromised and you are running on emergency backup, as Encke correctly surmised. Also, we appear not to be moving any longer. As to what has boarded and why, I can’t seem to get any information. Something is interfering with the sonic,” he banged it a couple of times against his thigh, as if this would so how help.

“Merde,” Oberon swore.

“Oooo, hello! French,” said the Doctor, elbowing Clara, “There’s something about the French swearing, don’t you think, Carl.”

“What are you so fucking happy about?!” Cain exclaimed, stepping threateningly toward the Doctor.

“Don’t mind him,” Clara intervened, giving the Doctor a warning look, “he’s in his element when things are going tits up and our lives are in danger; I swear this is his bread and butter,” she rolled her eyes.

“Not at all, Carl. I like nothing better than a quiet life.”

Clara snorted a laugh in response, “Oh yeah, pipe and slippers, that’s you.”

Cain stared at them as if they were both mad.

Suddenly in the distance they heard the unmistakable sound of small arms fire, screams and a less recognisable noise that sounded something like; “Rooooooaoaooaoaoaooawwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhh!” that, although unfamiliar, went straight from their ears to their hind brains and terrified them at a primeval level.

“Doctor! I really don’t like this,” Clara whispered, glancing at his face, which had grown exceedingly serious.

They had arrived at the coms panel. Keeler, with Puck at his side, attempted to make contact with the control room. The fighters took up positions in a semicircle around the navigators, corralling them and the Doctor and Clara, within their protection.

The hair rising sound came again, this time closer, and was answered by another elsewhere on the ship.

“Command, this is Keeler, come in.”

There was no response for a few heartbeats then, “Lieutenant Keeler, this is command, go ahead.”

“We are in corridor 737 at terminal alpha 26. I have with me Lieutenant Encke, the Doctor and his assistant, and the members of red team. Please report the current situation aboard the ship,” Keeler said calmly.

A thudding sound could be heard over the com and a faint roar and clicking. “Lieutenant, command is under siege. The ship has been boarded by ‘Terons’. The commanders must be somewhere near your location, as they were on route to meet you, but they have yet to report in. We believe the skirmish you were involved in earlier was a diversion,” another loud thud came over the com. “They are trying to get in here, but I doubt they will be successful any time soon. I must warn you, they are obviously armed, however they also have some sort of large beasts with them, extremely vicious and lethal from what we have witnessed through the view feed.”

Keeler swallowed, glancing at Encke, who looked grim. Cain swore fluidly in Russian. Puck, gloved hand over his mouth, murmured, “Gods.”

“Command,” Keeler continued, “we will attempt to find the Commanders. I want you to contact all surviving personnel and get them to the hangar bays to protect the ships, to the data banks to protect the main computing power, and engineering - although I suspect engineering is already compromised, if that is the case to attempt to retake engineering and get the main power working again.”

“Affirmative. Good luck, Lieutenant,” the com clicked off.

Keeler turned to the Doctor and Clara. “Doctor, I will say here and now that I do not like that you turned up out of thin air just before this happened. I do not trust you. However, at the present moment, you are the least of my concerns. If you _are_ from Section, I would appreciate your input and suggestions.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, when there was a wet, snarling, slavering growl from the direction they had come. The fighters pointed their weapons toward the sound as the navigators reached for their own weapons. The Doctor raised his sonic, its chirping buzz loud in the sudden silence. “My suggestion, Keeler, would be that we perambulate,” he pointed away from the sound, “with alacrity in the opposite direction to the creature making that sound.”

“What?” Cain and Encke both snapped at him.

“In other words, RUN!” the Doctor shouted and sprinted off up the corridor, the others following quickly behind.

**Author's Note:**

> I intended for this to be a one shot, but it developed a life of it's own and now feels more like a chapter one.  
> I don't know at the moment if I'll ever add to it, but maybe.


End file.
